The sails of the ship are white, love

The sails of the ship are white, love;
What are they?
The hauling clouds, you say.

The ropes are weather-worn, love;
What are they?
The strands of rain, you say.

The lights ashore are lit, love;
What are they?
The beacon stars, you say.

How shall we keep the course, love,
By night and day?
By a secret chart, you say.

But how shall we reckon true, love,
Without time of day?
By a tick of the heart, you say.

And how shall we know the land, love,
On that day?
You smile and will not say.